


The way you swell, slow (pushing right out of your seams)

by queerly_it_is



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Endearments, Exhibitionism, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sibling Incest, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_it_is/pseuds/queerly_it_is
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam loves giving head. Or maybe it’s the way Dean talks about it. Also he might be a bit of an exhibitionist. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way you swell, slow (pushing right out of your seams)

The shiny-white tile floor is hard and unforgiving beneath his knees, edges digging into his skin. The room is flooded with harsh fluorescent lighting that tints his vision pink through his clenched-shut eyelids, hint of capillaries showing.

Not much sound permeates the room, even with the party going full swing just a few feet from the heavy wooden door. All he can hear are the ragged breaths he’s sucking in through his nostrils, the pounding of blood in his ears, and the comparatively soft brushing noise of Dean’s hands in his hair.

That is, until Dean starts to _talk_.

“ _Fuck_ , Sammy” His voice totally wrecked, deep and growling, and Sam swears he can feel the vibrations in the tiles under his (mostly-numb) knees.

Dean’s hips twitch forward, despite his obvious best effort to draw this out; hard silky flesh shoving past the seal of his lips, sharp tug on his hair as Dean tries to keep himself under control. _Christ,_ Sam loves reducing Dean to this.

Don’t get him wrong, there’s not much he loves more than Dean sucking his cock; plush almost-girly lips swollen even more than they usually are as Sam fucks in and out of the tight, wet heat of his brother’s perfect mouth. Dean loves it too, which for some reason still surprises Sam, even after decades of doing this - not counting Stanford, countless miles of separation, demon blood, or Heaven and Hell in between them - that his control freak, overly-macho, insecure, _beautiful_ tangled mess of a big brother will so willingly drop to his knees; head bobbing between Sam’s thighs, sucking like he’s being paid for it.

No way Sam’s gonna be stupid enough to question it, though.

But for as much as he loves getting that from Dean; that act of trust and slight submission, somehow more hard-hitting than when he lets Sam fuck him, and as goddamn _talented_ at it as Dean’s gotten over the years, he still prefers it like this, somehow.

Maybe it’s because he knows just how to get Dean to fall apart with the right _flick_ of his tongue, or how Dean responds with the most _amazing_ noises when Sam takes him all the way to the base, nose buried in the wiry curls, musky-spice smell of _Dean_ filling his lungs. Maybe it’s the feel of Dean’s hands in his hair, possessive and sometimes-rough, but never harsher than Sam likes. Maybe it’s because he knows that for all the people Dean’s been with, for all his experience, it’s only _Sam_ that can make him come in under two minutes if he puts his mind to it.

Maybe Sam’s just kind of a slut for his big brother.

Or maybe it’s because - like right now - whenever he does this, Dean just doesn’t _shut up_ about how much _he_ loves it.

“God Sam, just like that.” Words sighed out on a long exhale; face utterly slack in pleasure when Sam glances up. Slow slide of cock over his tongue, bittersweet hit of precome making him groan unselfconsciously.

“Fucking love this, don’t ya Sammy?” Dean says on a smirk, knowing full well that Sam can’t - won’t - answer, unwilling to stop what he’s doing, not wanting to give up the taste of Dean filling his mouth.

“Yeah, know how much you love doin’ this, how much you _need_ it.” Another groan, Dean’s hips shifting back a little further this time before sliding forward again, dick running over the topside of his tongue and nudging his soft palette, all the way to the back of his throat, spit and precome running down his chin from one corner of his mouth.

“Always look so fuckin’ _good_ like this Sam, mouth all stuffed full, just taking it for me. _God_ ” Harder thrust again; moving faster now, hands gripping tighter in his hair, pulling as he fucks in and out, Sam moaning with each shove of Dean’s body, knowing how it turns Dean on.

“Want me to fuck your pretty pink mouth, baby boy?” Childhood endearment making Sam moan louder, _fuck,_ always nails him hard when Dean calls him that, twists the tiny knot in his gut that says _brothershouldn’twrong_ and makes everything that much _hotter_.

He’s hard-as-steel in his dark grey pants; both of them still dressed in suits from playing FBI earlier that afternoon. Dean’s belt hangs either side of his open black pants, buckle _clinking_ as he thrusts, underwear shoved just below his tight, full balls, sweat darkening the collar of his white shirt, tie hanging out of one pocket.

_Fuck_ Dean’s a hot mess, all ‘cos of Sam.

His cock twitches, trapped against his thigh, as Dean thrusts harder into his throat, his brother just _taking_ what he wants. He sucks hard, runs his tongue along the vein, flicks it under the head and into the slit, the things he knows Dean loves, every damn trick he knows, trying to get Dean to come already, to hurry things up a little.

They’re in a swanky restaurant bathroom, after all.

Dean, so adept at reading him, must pick up on some cue that gives his thoughts away, starts _talking_ again.

“Yeah, anyone could just walk in, y’know that Sammy?” Shove of cock, grind of hips against his face “Door ain’t locked, bunch’a high-society douchebags and their stuck-up wives right outside.” Sam’s dick twitching again, feels the precome drip lower down his widely-spread thigh, and _fuck_ he really needs to come soon.

“Wouldn’t even _care_ if they saw us would ya Sammy? Let ‘em all see just how fucking _desperate_ you get for it? How much you love your brother’s cock down your throat?” Teasing tone in his whiskey-raw voice now - getting close probably, way he’s leaking like a faucet over Sam’s tongue - and _shit_ he’d be amazed if no one heard that. But nobody bursts in to arrest them or anything, so Sam just tilts his head back, eyes locked to Dean’s, neck bared by the open collar of his shirt, meets the challenge head-on.

“ _Fuck,_ you would wouldn’t you Sam? Maybe I should call just ‘em in here, give ‘em a real _show_ ” Particularly hard thrust with the last word, dick screwing into him, and Dean swells impossibly harder in his mouth, balls drawing up before he _comes_ , bittersweet liquid in his throat, on his tongue, running down his jaw onto his suit pants, faint patters on the tile floor. Dean lets out a broken groan as Sam swallows around him, drawing out every last string of Dean’s orgasm.

_God_ , Sam loves this.

Oversensitive, Dean finally pulls back with a groan and a faint hiss, catching his breath while weakly tugging at Sam to get him on his feet - not easy; gasping for air, legs numb and most of his blood-supply throbbing in his dick - so he can shove his hand down Sam’s pants and start to roughly jerk him off.

“You’re gonna come all over yourself aren’t ya Sammy?” Raspy voice whispered right against the shell of his ear, breath hot and noisy, tongue dipping in slightly, as Dean runs his hand from root to tip, blunt edge of thumbnail flicking at the slit where he’s practically dripping precome.

“Wanna see you all wet and messy, Sam; walkin’ outta here with that huge load shifting around, making you squirm for me.” _Fuck_ he can feel it building fast already, too turned-on for too long with no release. Pressure in his balls almost painfully intense. God he’s gonna come so _hard_.

“C’mon Sam.” Twist of his wrist at the head, grip tightening. “Lemme see it, lemme feel you shoot for me, baby boy.” Gravel in his voice, commanding tone - _big brother tone_ \- and that. That is just _it_.

The world goes white; Dean jerking him, calloused hand tight and perfect around him, held up between Dean and front edge of the open stall. Feels himself jerk and pulse, cock still trapped inside his pants, spurting against the material and _fuck_ that it just makes it last longer. Wet streaks of come running along his thigh, slicking up Dean’s grip on him, tacky-sticky noise not quite muffled by the fabric. 

He whimpers; this high cracked thing that sticks in this throat, and Dean kisses him _hard_ , licks around his mouth at the taste of his own come, smears of it between their lips, little string of milky-white connecting them when Dean pulls back, withdraws his hand. 

Making sure Sam is paying attention; Dean slowly licks his fingers clean, obscene lips running down the length of each one, tongue flicking at the webbing in between. Christ, Sam is too old to get hard again this fast.

“Mmm” Dean hums around his fingers, eyelids twitching like he wants to close them, _savour it_ , like it’s pie or ice-cream and not Sam’s come he’s licking off his skin. “Always taste so fucking _good_ Sammy.” Another groan, and no _way_ someone hasn’t heard them by now, probably why no one has needed the men’s room in the last however-many minutes. Sam really can’t bring himself to worry though, not with orgasm turning his brain to marshmallow, limbs heavy and eyes half-lidded as he watches his brother practically fellate his own hand.

Dean moves closer, hand dropping to Sam’s hip; thumb tracing the cut of muscle exposed by his open shirt and pants.

“Think they’re waiting for us out there?” Dean asks, teasing lilt back again as he nods his head at the mahogany door. “We goin’a jail, Sammy?” Way he says that, slow and lazy like he’s almost _hoping_ for it, makes Sam wanna take back the orgasm he just gave him.

“If w…” Coughs, voice totally fucked-out, throat working. “If we do, it’ll be _your_ fault.” Still sounds exactly like he’s spent his last few minutes with a dick in his mouth, but hey, sentences. ‘Course, Dean just gives up a smarmy-proud grin at that.

“Worth it Sammy, totally worth it.” No concern in his tone at all, eyes dipping a little to Sam’s no-doubt swollen mouth; he can still feel his lips tingling, not to mention the come drying on his chin, his own cooling on his thigh and crotch, two fucking enormous wet-spots showing obviously on his good grey pants. Great.

“Say that again when they’re doing the mug shots, dude.” He tries to frown, but can’t seem to summon the effort to arrange his face the right way. Amused glint in Dean’s bottle-green eyes says he knows it too, the fucker.

“C’mon Sammy, lets get you outta here so I can fuck you.” Commanding tone again as he turns, doing pants and belt up as he heads for the door, tie swinging a little more out of his pocket with the sex-sway of his hips.

Screw it; they’ve been to jail before.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the way you swell, slow  
> Pushing right out of your seams  
> It's the way you smile, baby  
> When you've got me on my knees  
> Your all night noise, your sirens howl  
> You make my heart beat faster
> 
> \- Matt Nathanson


End file.
